


make a little birdhouse in your soul

by pixiepower



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Outdoor Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Polyamory, Porn with Feelings, Threesome - M/M/M, Vacation, denim jacket with no shirt choi seungcheol, denim jacket with no shirt kim mingyu, who ISN’T in love with xu minghao?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-19
Updated: 2020-08-19
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:54:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25988545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pixiepower/pseuds/pixiepower
Summary: Seungcheol follows his eyes out the window and moves away to gaze at Minghao, too. Mingyu reaches around Seungcheol and picks up a pear, biting into it and letting the sweetness fill his mouth, juice running down his hand.
Relationships: Choi Seungcheol | S.Coups/Kim Mingyu, Choi Seungcheol | S.Coups/Kim Mingyu/Xu Ming Hao | The8, Choi Seungcheol | S.Coups/Xu Ming Hao | The8, Kim Mingyu/Xu Ming Hao | The8
Comments: 14
Kudos: 139





	make a little birdhouse in your soul

**Author's Note:**

> title from “birdhouse in your soul” by they might be giants.
> 
> they just...... posted all those pictures......... and i was supposed to NOT do this???? i respectfully disagree

There are pears and peaches in a bowl on the table, reflecting green and orange tones through the crystal onto the wood, and Mingyu is getting kissed.

The sun hits everything like a blanket, the warmth of it drawn comfortably through the window above the kitchen sink, illuminating all the raw painted wood and casting rainbows through the glasses and vases and jars. A pane is pushed open. A breeze blows through, cool in the heat of the afternoon, and Seungcheol’s fingers are nudging under Mingyu’s jacket, finding nothing underneath but skin decorated with goosebumps. After all these years Seungcheol’s mouth still knows how to draw tingles to the surface. He never let it fall out of practice, after all.

Well, that and the hard line of Seungcheol’s body pressing Mingyu against the kitchen island, the butcher-block pushing the little silver buttons in the denim against the small of his back as he crowds close. Mingyu squeaks in surprise when Seungcheol’s thigh slips between his legs, and Seungcheol blushes a little but doubles down, nudging it up and earning another squeak for his trouble.

“Cute,” Seungcheol laughs.

They kiss languidly, letting the early afternoon melt them together. Everything smells sweet, fruit and paint and salt water mixing in the air, and Mingyu is taken aback by how much it smells like it could be home. He smiles against Seungcheol’s mouth, pulling him closer by the neck and rolling his hips down, the press of Seungcheol’s thick thigh sturdy against him. “Mmm,” he giggles back, raking nails gently down Seungcheol’s nape and leaning back to offer his neck up for kissing.

He’s rewarded with the warm slide of Seungcheol’s lips across his jaw and a nip to his earlobe. “No. Focus.” It seems to be just as much an admonishment toward himself as it is toward Mingyu.

“Ah, you’re right,” Mingyu acquiesces, but tugs a little at Seungcheol’s hair anyway just to get a retaliatory bite. This one lands on his neck with a little wet suction and he grins smugly.

Conspiring with Seungcheol is always going to be one of Mingyu’s favorite activities, even if things usually get turned back around on them more often than not. 

Minghao is simply too smart for them. Or maybe they’ve all just been together too long, and he knows all their devious little tricks. Little does Minghao know that Mingyu is well aware of his willingness to indulge them, and tugs at that thread until they’re all triumphant and bare with each other, emperors in no clothes. They find plenty of success on their own, Mingyu interrupting his studio time or Seungcheol pouting to convince him to share a shower, but together they’re all but impossible to ignore.

Especially when Seungcheol looks like this, lips a blooming rose, swollen and petal-pink from kissing Mingyu, his hair soft from where Minghao brushed it out this morning. Mingyu already feels a warm buzz under his skin, the sunlight casting Seungcheol in a halo, and he’s just… so happy to be here.

Through the window they can see Minghao is lying in the hammock in the backyard, his paints strewn across the wool blanket under the umbrella by the gate, his palette messy with color like the rainbow of wild flowers climbing up the wrought-iron. The gate is locked again, Minghao having shut it when he came back up the short trail from his walk along the beach. His hair is frizzy and curly with saltwater, and the legs of his overalls are still rolled up to his calves, and he looks so beautiful, breeze ruffling him every few minutes and sun highlighting his beautiful goldenness.

Being here with them, like this, it’s impossible for Mingyu to believe that they have a life anywhere else, that he’s supposed to go back to work at the stationery store and Seungcheol is going to wake up and head to the senior care home and Minghao has to go back to the college. 

This feels like the life they’re meant to lead, with the sea crashing two blocks away and big trees in the backyard and tall fences with climbing plants shielding them from the rest of the world. There’s a ladder next to the eave over the kitchen window, standing unfolded under the box where the key had been kept for them. Paints and flowers and fresh fruit for breakfast, plucked from the branches overhead, and opportunities to just be together.

It’s the way vacations are supposed to feel.

Seungcheol follows his eyes out the window and moves away to gaze at Minghao, too. Mingyu reaches around Seungcheol and picks up a pear, biting into it and letting the sweetness fill his mouth, juice running down his hand. By the time Seungcheol realizes Mingyu is eating and turns back around, the pear is nothing but core and stem, and it makes Seungcheol laugh, which makes Mingyu feel smug.

It’s a very nice feedback loop. Mingyu wants to live in it.

Seungcheol gets to Minghao first, crouching beside where he lays while Mingyu throws the pear into the compost bin. It takes a minute to greet the worms as they move through the dirt, and it takes another nudge of the breeze to push him toward the hammock.

“Hi, beautiful,” Seungcheol murmurs, in that way where it doesn’t sound cheesy or like a line, just gentle and real and earthshatteringly honest.

“Hi.” Smiling and opening his eyes, Minghao stretches, long lean body arching off the hammock a little, and leans up to kiss Seungcheol, one hand on his cheek to steady him. He pulls away and beckons to Mingyu with a hand, kissing him slow and sweet too. His tongue runs over his bottom lip when he lets Mingyu go. “You taste good.”

“How was the beach?” Mingyu asks, a little pink and breathless already.

Minghao doesn’t move to get up, just settles into himself, catlike and pretty, as he gazes at Mingyu and Seungcheol with nap-bright eyes. It’s disarming at close range like this. “It was so nice, honestly. I’ll have to take you tomorrow. When the tide goes out we can see the urchins and starfish in the pools.”

“That sounds great,” Seungcheol says, and turns to Mingyu. His eyes flick down to Mingyu’s mouth and back up. “Isn’t that a great idea, Mingyu?”

“Yeah,” Mingyu says absentmindedly, and leans forward to kiss Seungcheol again, almost like he didn’t mean to.

Minghao’s gentle laughter swirls around them on the breeze, and the sound of it runs up Mingyu’s skin just as much as the feeling of Seungcheol’s tongue sliding over his does. Mingyu has never been difficult to stimulate, but has always prided himself on being a good multitasker. His interviewers didn’t need to know the full capacity of his abilities. 

Seungcheol’s hand finds Mingyu’s waist, thumb running up his side, and he must make a soft noise, because Minghao says playfully, “Well. Are we going inside?”

Mingyu pulls back and looks at Minghao, then at Seungcheol. The game is up, and they didn’t even have to ‘accidentally’ reveal that there’s nothing under their denim jackets. Minghao’s eyes are bright, his body relaxed, and of course he knows exactly what they wanted. Seungcheol blushes, and Mingyu opens his mouth to reply, but—

“It’s just  _ such _ a nice day. It would be a shame to go inside,” Minghao continues, murmuring it against Seungcheol’s cheek, and Mingyu feels his blood go warm, melting southward.

Minghao had mentioned  _ privacy  _ when they booked their stay here, shooting Seungcheol and Mingyu an overtly lascivious smile until they had all broken into a giggle fit. They talked about it a little, after, but Mingyu hadn’t thought they meant it, not really. But now…?

“Yes,” Seungcheol breathes, and Mingyu lets out a quick, strong exhale. He asks, “Mingyu?”

Mingyu nods.

There is no elegant way to get out of a hammock, of this Mingyu is sure, because if there were, Minghao would have found it, and Minghao’s breathless giggles as he struggles to separate himself from the netting distinctly suggest otherwise.

“Hyung,” Minghao laughs, ears going a little red as Seungcheol wraps his hands around Minghao’s waist and helps him out of the hammock. What a sight.

Both of Minghao’s hands are sliding up Seungcheol’s stomach under the buttoned denim and pressing against Seungcheol’s chest, and he’s nuzzling kisses to the underside of his jaw, and he already looks pink and pliant when he lies next to Mingyu where he’s settled in the grass.

“Not the blanket?” Seungcheol asks, shielding his eyes a little to look down at Mingyu.

“I didn’t want to move your paint, Hao.”

The grateful look Minghao gives Mingyu precedes a full, deep kiss, Mingyu’s hand grasping at one of the straps of Minghao’s overalls to keep him close. The grass is soft against what little skin Mingyu has exposed, tickling at his midriff and his neck while Minghao has him spread out under him. 

Minghao is kissing him gentler than Seungcheol had, but no less meaningfully, hands cool from sleep and shade as he unbuttons and pushes Mingyu’s top off. “This was a cute idea,” he says, licking a stripe down Mingyu’s neck and sucking a dark mark just under his collarbone. “I like when you match.”

Mingyu sighs, leaning back so Minghao can kiss at his chest. “I told you he’d like it, Cheollie-hyung.”

“I agreed with you then, too, you don’t have to say ‘I told you so,’” Seungcheol laughs. His eyes are trained on Minghao licking down the center of Mingyu’s chest, and his cheeks go flushed when Mingyu whines and wriggles at the flick of Minghao’s tongue over a nipple.

Everything feels bathed in sunlight, all the colors and feelings saturated and summery between the three of them where they lie in the grass. The sky is so blue and open above them, and it’s like the world is theirs.

“Like you both being there when I open my eyes,” Minghao says, mouthing at Mingyu’s jaw. “Wanna get fucked,” he adds, simple and plain and bare as Mingyu’s chest, and Seungcheol makes a choked noise from above them. It’s not a rare request for Minghao to make exactly, but certainly not his most frequent. He prefers it when he’s feeling like this, soft and stretched-out like the saltwater taffy at the store down the block, relaxed, almost needy. It crashes through Mingyu like the tide, even more so as Minghao asks in this turned-on voice, “Hyung? Will you?”

“Yeah. He’s going to make you feel so good,” Mingyu responds for Seungcheol, and it sounds like dirty talk but feels honest.

Obviously in agreement, Seungcheol nods, that sweet mixture of determination and pride and love all over his face as he drops to his knees, lube and condom in hand from where he had them stashed in his back pocket. 

Minghao rolls off Mingyu, settling on his back and hurrying to unclip and unbutton and take off his overalls. “Wouldn’t have worn overalls if I had known this would happen,” he mutters, laughing a little as he rocks side to side to push the denim down.

“But you look so cute,” Seungcheol says, tugging them the rest of the way off, leaving Minghao in his t-shirt and underwear.

Making a little noise of realization, Minghao loosens the bandana tied around his neck, tucking it into Seungcheol’s pocket. “I’ll look cuter like this,” he says, pushing his briefs down and freeing one leg, the neon green material hanging off the other ankle which he effortlessly hitches onto Seungcheol’s shoulder.

Seungcheol swears, and Mingyu is fully hard almost instantly after simmering on low for the better part of the last hour. Minghao’s face is wrecked already by the time Seungcheol gets a finger in him, blooming under the attention.

He’s always been so comfortable with Mingyu and Seungcheol. They clicked, the three of them, right away, when Minghao was still new in town and closed off. All it took was Mingyu knocking on the door, both figuratively and literally, and all of Minghao’s walls came down, letting Mingyu in, giant window-leaf plant cascading from his hands, and Seungcheol close behind. Falling in love was easy, and Seungcheol especially always made it easier, heart all over his face and ready to spill out of his mouth like breathing.

Dark-eyed, Seungcheol says, “Yeah, you do,” when he sinks another finger into Minghao. Mingyu can’t look away, Minghao panting and whining to his side, pushing his hips against Seungcheol’s hand.

He knows how that feels,  _ loves _ how it feels, knowing that Seungcheol’s fingers wider and rougher inside him than Minghao’s, kind of perfect for doing this outside. It feels appropriate. Mingyu squirms a little and watches Seungcheol push his jeans and boxers down, roll on the condom, murmur sweet things to Minghao, and arousal hits him like a truck.

Like some sort of love static Mingyu thinks,  _ You’re beautiful. You’re perfect. I’m so lucky. I will never get over this.  _

What comes out is a ragged, “You look so good together.”

Minghao and Seungcheol both sigh at the sound of it, but only Minghao responds. “Thank you, bǎobèi—ah!”

The back half of Minghao’s sentence shakes into a gasp as Seungcheol lines himself up and sinks into Minghao. It’s just so undeniably Seungcheol, the way his teeth sink into his lower lip and desire is painted plain over his features but he is so singlemindedly focused on Minghao, fucking him deep and steady like he likes best, a pillar of reliability even now. Maybe especially now.

God, Seungcheol is so hot, arms all but bursting out of his t-shirt sleeves, his hands on either side of Minghao’s waist holding himself up, but the worst is that Seungcheol looks soft, still, even with his jeans straining where they’re bunched at his thighs and his hair falling in his eyes and his denim jacket unbuttoned and askew on his shoulders.

Mingyu remembers the way Seungcheol blinked those big eyes and let his emotions run wild over his face when he first told him he loved him, all of their shared first-boyfriend feelings giddy and overwhelming and perfect. That boy is here, flushing under Mingyu’s coos and over Minghao’s whimpers, and Mingyu loves him just as much as he did then. 

Probably more.

He feels just as breathless watching them, up on his knees like it gives him a better vantage point on Seungcheol railing Minghao like it’s the first time, desperate and helpless and so fucking good, if the gasps and whines Minghao is letting out are any indication.

Sweat drips down Seungcheol’s neck, sliding down his chest as he leans forward, grinding deep into Minghao and babbling, “You’re so tight, feel so good, fuck,” which is normally nonsense filth that wouldn’t work on Minghao, who knows better, who is good at talking Mingyu off but doesn’t need it himself, except for the way it’s clearly and absolutely working for him right now.

Little sounds are pouring out of Minghao’s mouth and he grabs for Mingyu’s hands, rough where Minghao’s fingers dipped in paint have dried, Mingyu’s a little sticky in the webs with pear juice. Their fingers slot together, Mingyu leaning down to press kisses onto the backs of both of Minghao’s hands, and suddenly Minghao can’t speak except with his body. He’s arching his back, feet flexing as Seungcheol fucks steadily into him, and Mingyu watches his toes curl, feels his hands trembling where they’re joined.

There is no way Mingyu will ever get tired of learning all the ways Minghao expresses himself, how he paints bold strokes with his body and voice across every room he enters, pressing bright handprints onto Seungcheol and Mingyu’s hearts indelibly and leaving them to trace the shape.

“Aa-ah,  _ ah, Cheol,”  _ Minghao whines, curling in a little and tugging his hands and Mingyu’s to his face, shoving his forehead and his nose and his lips to their skin.

Seungcheol is breathing hard, but his face is wide open, eyes bright and trained on Minghao’s face, the expanse of his neck, where his t-shirt is rucked up under his armpits. His lips are pink where they’re parted, and Mingyu misses the taste, peach from breakfast and warm with eagerness.

Minghao’s breath comes in warm bursts against their twined fingers as his voice cuts out, Seungcheol getting his hands on Minghao’s waist and lifting him up just a little to meet him where his cock is disappearing into Minghao. The angle changes, Mingyu can see it, can feel it, and sound returns in the form of Minghao  _ screaming, _ high-pitched and openmouthed, into Mingyu’s palm, rolling his hips to meet Seungcheol on his next thrust and his dick pulsing, coming messy over his stomach.

“Fuck, fuck,” Seungcheol says, hips stuttering to a stop to let Minghao rock down out of his orgasm, pulling out when Minghao nods vigorously and taps the back of Mingyu’s hands.

All of them are working through that speechless moment as best they can. 

Seungcheol closes his eyes and tips his face up to the sky, letting the sun burst colors against his closed eyelids and breathing very, very deeply. Mingyu giggles. He knows what staving off an orgasm looks like. “Ah, hyung, you’re so hot. That might be a new record.”

Minghao lets out a long breath, laughing around the empty air. “A new record for what? Are you keeping sex records, Minggoo? Is that what you write in your journal while hyung is cooking dinner?”

A flush runs over Mingyu’s cheeks where they’re already ruddy with sun, and Minghao laughs.

“That was  _ sooo  _ good, hyung,” Minghao says dreamily, cutely, and reaches down to tug at the collar of Seungcheol’s jacket. “Come kiss.”

“No,” Mingyu says, and feels as surprised as Minghao and Seungcheol look at the fact that he said it at all. “I—I need to suck you off.”

Minghao’s shock softens into something like interest, something like fondness. “Let him stand up and stretch his legs, Mingyu.”

Like he didn’t think to before, Seungcheol does. He stands up and takes a deep, shuddering breath, and laughs, too. The condom has been stripped off and disposed of somewhere, hopefully? and his cock is hard and wet against his hip and Mingyu is getting desperate, even as dumb as they all look half-dressed, blues on green. Minghao stands up, too, wrinkling his nose as he pulls his underwear back on and tugs his overalls back up, reaching around his back and clipping one side up. The motion is awkward, and Seungcheol’s hair is in his eyes, and Mingyu is full-tilt in love.

Minghao kisses Seungcheol anyway, as Mingyu hoped he would, waddling a few awkward steps to lean against the ladder, bracing against it and each other as they kiss, Minghao meeting Seungcheol’s desperation with lazy, loving catches of teeth and swipes of his tongue. Minghao has seemingly regained his faculties, one hand gripping Seungcheol’s bare ass in his wide palm, and Seungcheol gasps.

“Okay, okay, Mingyu, as unsexy as this sounds it might be now or never,” Seungcheol manages.

Mingyu knee-walks the short distance to the ladder and blinks up at his boyfriends.

At the sight of him Minghao giggles, pressing a kiss to Seungcheol’s temple and running a hand through Mingyu’s hair. “Yeah, this is going to be over quick.”

He isn’t wrong.

Almost as soon as Mingyu opens his mouth to lick up Seungcheol’s length, closing one eye in an approximation of a wince at the faint taste of lube in his mouth, Seungcheol is  _ talking  _ again, and Mingyu is so hard, leaking so much in his pants, he thinks the denim is going to be stiff forever. He probably should have worn underwear.

Suffice it to say Mingyu is well-practiced at sucking dick. Or, probably more accurately, is extremely well-practiced at sucking  _ Seungcheol’s  _ dick, to the degree where he’s able to stare up into where his eyes are screwed shut and his mouth is moving instead of focusing on his current task.

Seungcheol’s eyes snap open when Mingyu’s tongue laps at the head before rapidly closing again as he takes him as deep as he can, and the overwhelmed, adoring look on his face pulls a whine out of Mingyu. “Oh, fuck, Mingyu, you look so—”

“I know, he’s so pretty,” Minghao sighs, kissing softly at Seungcheol’s neck.

Mingyu rocks down, letting Minghao and Seungcheol’s praise wash over him, Minghao’s hand in his hair and Seungcheol’s at his cheek and Seungcheol’s cock heavy on his tongue, and it’s—it’s almost too much, too good. Mingyu inhales deeply, all freshly-cut grass and sunshine and  _ Seungcheol  _ in, and exhales a sharp, needy whine out, rolling his hips down involuntarily against the laces on Seungcheol’s boots. The seam of the denim catches the loose bow, and Mingyu grinds down on it, keening and shuddering.

The friction is rough but just enough, and Mingyu’s eyes are watering, and Mingyu licks messy and sloppy at Seungcheol’s cock as his mouth drops open and he comes, hard, knees digging into the grass as he shakes through it. 

Mingyu can feel his face is damp, tears sliding down his cheeks and drool running out of the corners of his mouth, and he does his damnedest to keep his tongue on Seungcheol. You have to give everything your best effort, after all.

“Oh,” Minghao murmurs reverently. A shiver goes down his spine, a cool breeze rustling his willow.

“Oh, my God,” Seungcheol gasps, hand flying back to grab a rung of the ladder as Mingyu blinks wetly up at his face, registering in his periphery Minghao’s hand working over Seungcheol, the obscene, wet sound of it echoing louder than the ocean in Mingyu’s ears. “Fuck, I’m—”

“You going to be good too? Come pretty like our Mingyu?”

It’s like a stone getting dropped into a well. 

There’s a breathless moment as gravity pulls Minghao’s statement down, prompting a wild noise in the back of Mingyu’s throat on impact, and Seungcheol’s orgasm rippling outward from it, circular waves and the sound of water crashing against brick as he comes across Mingyu’s face, hot and wet and  _ hot. _

Seungcheol laughs again when he comes down, incredulous and boneless and so, so soft with Mingyu. He’s looking for all intents and purposes like he wants to kiss the breath out of him if it weren’t for the fact he’s digging around in his bunched-up pants pocket for the bandana Minghao gave him earlier to swipe at Mingyu’s cheeks, extra gentle under his eyes. 

His hand tilts Mingyu’s face up by his chin, thumb pressing into his lower lip, and Mingyu feels like a flower. Admired and tilted toward the sun, one with the earth.

It’s toe-curlingly fond when Seungcheol says, “Using your handkerchief. Like a token from a princess.”

“Faint heart never won fair lady and all that,” Mingyu giggles. He kisses Seungcheol’s thumb, eyes still fluttered shut.

Minghao snorts. “Am I fair lady in this situation?”

“If the golden slipper fits,” Seungcheol laughs, tugging his jeans and underwear up in one movement, hopping a little to get them over his ass.

Mingyu wrinkles his nose and lets himself fall back into a sitting position, stretching out his legs and wiggling his toes. The blue denim is streaked with green, damp patches of chlorophyll at his knees. Above him Seungcheol isn’t faring much better, Seungcheol’s knees matching Mingyu’s. There’s something sweet about it, the grass stains bright and vibrant on their clothes mirroring the streaks of paint on Minghao’s overalls. They’re still only clipped on one side, matching the lopsided grin he’s giving them.

They’re disheveled and relaxed and giggly, and in a minute Minghao will insist on the three of them taking a shower before lunch, but right now the sun is casting rainbows through the open windowpane onto the ground, there’s the smell of sex and grass and pears in the air, and Mingyu feels a breeze ruffle his hair. 

Home ought to feel like this.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading!
> 
> find me on [twitter](http://www.twitter.com/pixiepowerao3) and [curiouscat](http://www.curiouscat.me/pixiepower/)!


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